The Not So Great Adventures of Tinsley Whitefield
by Poltergeists
Summary: Tinsley Whitefield, another typical daughter of Demeter, is forced on a quest with her least favorite person. So how will they both cope with each other? Note: This is not a parody, but an actual story.


**Okay. So since I'm out of my goddamn boredom I've decided to write a real story. SQUEE! And if you flame . . . well, that's your problem since I have no right to tell you that you can't flame or whatever crap. But whatever if you don't like it? Oh, I don't care. I won't break down crying.**

Hello there, it's Tinsley speaking here, Tinsley Whitefield if you want to get practical here, but I'd rather prefer Tinsley, if you want to get technical. You see, I live in a place called Camp Half-Blood located in Long Island, and if your mortal – don't bother trying to find it, because since in spite of the Mist distorts all human vision you'll only see some farm and you won't be able to go pas the boarders.

I live in a cabin which consists of four boys and three girls which is seven of us in total. I'm the third youngest daughter of Demeter, as in the Greek goddess of agriculture and wheat. Sounds cool, want to hear the catch? Everyone else who goes to Camp Half-Blood is all very much demigods who either has one godly parent. Apparently, the gods haven't stopped their habits of screwing mortals for the past thousand years.

So to speak if we as much as step outside Camp Half-Blood were screwed. As in, most people would have considered as suicide but since that most Demeter children don't pose as a threat the majority of monsters wouldn't give the likes of us.

Anyway, I'm sitting here in math class which I find undoubtedly impossible to believe that I have actually achieved to stay awake for more than ten minutes. It quite something, especially since I've never actually depended, nor will I start now, on numbers as an important part of my life. Oh, look! I found _one _flower! I see _three _rows of tulips in my backyard! _I _have six siblings. Oh to hell with that, my guess is the person who'd invented math (_oh_, screw him or her or whatever and hope that he/she dyed painfully) was only trying to frustrate us to the point where we will go berserk until the goddamn exams come around.

Honestly, I would love to give someone a solid kick in the jaw who decided that demigods go to school, considering that I was diagnosed with mild dyslexia and attention deficit disorder which makes us unable to sit down for an hour that would put an mortal hyperactive child to shame and that I have low attention span therefore I will never be able to concentrate in one thing much less which is actually very useless when you're in a heated battle with a bunch of bone-headed monsters.

Let's see . . . I see _two _pencils, _one _very big textbook that I would have trouble carrying, _one _eraser, _and one _blue binder on my text where I put my contents that I would use on a daily basis . . . and _oh _look! _One _very angry teacher with _one _ruler taping it on my text who is incredibly short on that. I swear, she's even smaller than me which is saying a lot since I am pretty much the size of an average nine year old (and _I'm _thirteen at that!) and I'm surprised that no one has walked over her or sat on her yet considering her undoubtedly short size.

"Miss Whitefiedl! I'm sick and tired of finding you asleep on your text every single day! This is a class where people word hard to the best of their ability to land with hard working jobs!"

Cue my _eighteenth _lecture, _out _of seven periods, _of _one day, which is hard to believe.

"Do you even bother trying? I'm surprised that you haven't failed this term." She pauses. "Are you even listening to me?"

Say, what? I nod as if I had been listening the whole she was rampaging about fine mathematicians.

"Good, I'm glad that you've listened for once." She nods with approval. "Now, get back to work!"

Hey I just realized something math is turning out to be quite interesting these days. And then, I heard the glorious sound I've dreaded every single day since I've begun freshman year.

"_Yes_!" I say triumph, pumping up my fists to prove emphasis, and shove every single content that was visible on my desk into my binder and race out the door, some of the contents flew out, I didn't care, _and I _was saved by the bell at last!

So where was I? Ah, I was at my locker, rapidly turning the dial around, shoving my binder, which is pretty much huge, as fast as I could, everyone else was wandering the halls saying their regards for the next two months and making plans and all that crap I would not get into. Honestly, I really have absolutely no idea what I have for homework but I didn't really care because I'd somehow finish it on the last minute. I throw some books that I'd checked out from the library last week and into my bag and then on second thought I'd grabbed my Roget's pocket dictionary. I slammed my blue locker and heard a faint click and I turned to fight my way through the hordes of students that were quickly forming in the class.

Unfortunately – slammed into someone, and _that _someone happened to my best friend hence that he's a guy, and that most people would refer him as my boyfriend which is completely far from the truth, if you catch my drift. But he's the one with bad fashion sense, even though I didn't know much about fashion, wearing a olive-green hoodie that oddly remembers of my half-chewed salad puke last summer, _remind _me to never _ever _eat mustard with salad, or anything that is vegetable, with mustard. Anyway, as I rubbed my head, my stupid-idiot-of-a-friend turned around.

"God," Hunter turns around (that's right, his name is Hunter he's also my only mortal guy-friend since I would never be caught dead around with those faux-barbie blond chicks with boobs as fake as my colored-green contacts since my eyes have a knack for changing color) anyway, where was I? And then Hunter adds, "Oh. Hi, Tinsley. You oughta improve with your footing, we don't want someone rushed to the hospital now do we?"

I flush a deep red, and since my face is pretty much as pale as a white sheet naturally, I looked as a red as tomato that would put tomato to shame. I mumble a feeble, "Sorry. What day is it?"

"June 25th," Hunter responds, a look of wonder washed across his features.

And then something clicked to my head, holy crap – it was summer at last!

**Okay, since it was pretty much short don't bitch to my face. Or rather, if you don't like it, I don't give two flying shits about it, okay? This was quickly written, therefore, these mistakes were not intentional. As I stated before, nobody is perfect.**

**So, thoughts please?**


End file.
